


On the Wings of Fire

by Helholden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Incest, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, Episode Fix-it: s08e04 The Last of the Starks, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Something, Late Night Conversations, Marriage Proposal, POV Female Character, Post-Coital Cuddling, R Plus L Equals J
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 20:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19448896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helholden/pseuds/Helholden
Summary: In the hands of her beloved, Daenerys has never felt more at home.





	On the Wings of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Because Aegon Targaryen is Young Griff, and I will never forgive Dumb & Dumber for fusing Jon Snow and Aegon's characters together to create more drama for the show when they decided to cut Aegon out in the first place. Dany will reign fire on Aegon, not Jon Snow, so I'm ignoring that horseshit the show gave us when they ruined these two beautiful souls.
> 
> I never wrote fanfic for this pairing because, well, *shrugs* I had everything I ever wanted from the books and show until those last three episodes of Season 8. Guess it's time to fix that, huh?

* * *

With her head cradled against Jon's chest, Dany listened to his breathing steady out beneath her ear. Her fingers twirled in the soft furs laying over their naked forms, limbs intertwined with heat enough to flush her cheeks.

He always made her feel younger than she was, more vulnerable than she had been with lovers before, but that was because she truly trusted him. All of the fears that had been awakened in her tonight before he assuaged them away with a searing kiss were still lingering beneath the surface, playing tricks with her mind and causing her to doubt herself.

Jon stirred beneath her hand as it drifted from the furs to his bare chest, and he must have sensed the disquiet in her mind. His eyes opened again, glancing down sleepily at her with a soft fondness, but his fondness turned to worry as it was wont to do.

His hand reached out, cupping her cheek. "Dany, is something wrong?" he murmured. His touch was chaste unlike it had been during their lovemaking.

Dany tried to smile, though it did not reach her eyes. "No . . . and yes . . . "

Jon sighed, but it was gentle. He was worried about her. "What can I do?"

Her fingers found a spot on his chest to trace patterns. It was something to keep her occupied as she thought how to speak to him. She wanted to choose her words carefully. They had fumbled over themselves earlier, and she wanted nothing more than to make herself clear to him.

"It changes everything," Dany whispered, "and yet nothing at the same time . . . "

He lifted his head, half sitting up and bringing her with him. With his arm around her back, he laid a soft kiss upon her hair. "It changes nothing. As strange as it may sound, I knew it the moment I saw you . . . " He ran his free hand over her hair. "I love you, Dany."

She chanced to smile, and this time it reached her eyes. She loved it like nothing else whenever he called her that. It meant so much more coming from him than from anyone else. She slid her arm over his chest, pulling him closer for a hug.

"If that is so, Jon Snow," she teased, biting her bottom lip. Her teeth slipped from the pink flesh, sore from his kisses earlier. "Are we only lovers, Jon?"

This time she was not teasing. Her voice was soft, albeit a little fearful of what he might say next. She had been afraid he would turn her aside when she learned of his parentage, his blood, his connection to her . . . but she had also hoped against all odds that he would see her still for who she was to him before their knowledge of all that unknown history. Perhaps he would remember. Perhaps he wouldn't forget . . .

His brow furrowed, wrinkling his forehead in a manner that warmed her heart. He looked so childlike when he did that. "What do you mean?"

Dany opened her mouth, feeling the words fall back into her throat before she could speak them. It came out like an intake of breath. "Could we be anything more?" she managed to get out in a whisper.

She shouldn't have been so unsure, but he had a way of doing that to her. It wasn't her place to ask him, and yet . . . maybe it was. She was his queen, after all, and he had sworn fealty to her, but Dany didn't want their relationship to matter in the terms of who had power over who. It wasn't about that. She loved him, and he loved her.

She wanted to be his equal in a different kind of union. He was the one she had been waiting for all along.

Dany only hoped it was the same for him.

Jon seemed confused at first, of course, but he wasn't that slow. His eyes lit up as he caught on quickly, finally understanding what she meant through his sleep induced haze. He let out a shaky breath, almost seeming as afraid as her to speak of such things. "Is that what you want, Dany? From me? A bastard born deserter of the Night's Watch?"

With kind eyes, Dany shook her head. "You are no bastard," she countered, smiling up at him and kissing him on the nose. "You are Jon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark, the King in the North."

"Not since I bent the knee to you," he whispered, giving her a knowing look, but at least he did not argue further.

"Then unbend it," Dany said against his lips with a wash of warm breath into his mouth, "and wed me."

Jon's sudden intake of breath curled every one of her toes, and Dany slid her hand behind his neck and drew him down to catch his lips in a heated kiss. He returned it with equal fervor, his tongue passing between her lips and drawing out a moan from the back of her throat. He cupped her face and deepened it, lowering Dany to the coverlet beneath the furs and climbing on top of her. She let him. She let him devour her with kisses until he lowered himself between her legs and ran his tongue along that sweet spot that made her clutch the furs with a knuckle white grip.

If there was one thing he knew how to do well, it was this. He worshipped her with his mouth until her back was arched high and one hand grasped his hair and the other gripped for purchase on the bed. She called out and moaned, twisting as if to get away from all of the sensations before grinding down on him next. Jon had one hand on her thigh, and it ran up to the smooth expanse of her flat tummy. His other arm was curled underneath her leg, its hand holding her hip firmly in place.

His lips kissed her, tongue swirling and dipping inside of her, and Dany cried out his name as she came once, twice, fingers tightening in his hair as he drank of her ardently. It was the most reverent feeling as she came down from her high, and Jon placed a final kiss against her as she lay trembling in his arms.

When he crawled back up her body, his loose curls fell about his face and shrouded it in shadow. Dany looked up at him, pushing his hair out of his face with a loving hand, and then she saw the gleam of happiness in his eyes as he smiled down at her. Even in the dark of this room, she could make out their deep grey color. They seemed warm to her, if at all possible, like the grey of newly rising smoke.

He looked as though he wanted to say something to her, but it was hard for him to get it out. What confidence he had earned from pleasing her faltered for a moment, and he let out an unsteady breath.

"Dany . . . " Jon looked a man, but right now he was a boy uncertain of what to do or say. His brow furrowed again, and he bit his lip. His teeth slipped off of it, and he exhaled deeply. " . . . Will you marry me?"

Her heart beat so loud she felt it jump beneath her ribs. She thought he would never ask. He certainly hadn't been raised to do so, for a man raised as a bastard was often considered less than a second son, and marriage was not likely to be a part of their lot in life.

She grinned at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a loose hold. "Yes," she answered him. "Yes, I will marry you, Jon . . . "

Her lips pressed sweetly to his, and he stilled against her before finally smiling himself and kissing her back. She tasted herself on him, both strong and sweet, and slid her tongue past his lips for more.

Into the long hours of the night, they made love and uttered sweet things in each other's ears as time passed slowly by. Jon might not want to rule, but together they could do anything, and he knew that. The North accepted him, and in marriage they would accept her, too.

Together, they could do anything.


End file.
